


present in both blood and steel

by grassangel



Series: Kinktober 2017 [4]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Bloodplay, F/M, Femdom, Kinktober 2017, Knifeplay, Knives, Mind Games, Risk Aware Consensual Kink, The Vault (Doctor Who)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-16
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2019-01-17 18:28:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12371517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grassangel/pseuds/grassangel
Summary: She's been good and this is her reward: the Doctor spread bare below her and access to her knives for an afternoon.written for the Kinktober 2017 prompt "04: Knife Play/Begging"





	present in both blood and steel

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The play described in this fic is not necessarily safe and sane.
> 
> That being said, I did utilise a lot of common sense while writing this fic, as well as getting to indulge my aesthetic appreciation for knives.

She's been good and this is her reward: the Doctor spread bare below her and access to her knives for an afternoon. He's like a cat laid out like this, practically purring under her touch. If purring consists of a constant mantra of her name and pleases as she runs blades across his skin.

This one is a sturdy spike of a stiletto, heavy in her hand as she drags it along the Doctor's ribs. It leaves a pink line in its wake, his heaving breaths making it writhe like a living thing. She lets him feel the weight of it, holding it so it points over one of his hearts, a pinprick of blood welling up under it.

The Doctor isn't expecting her to draw with a long hiss a foil from the coiled belt, but the muscles of his inner thigh jump delightfully as she lightly trails the thin blade over them. Missy considers bringing up old memories to taunt the Doctor with, but he's stopped his begging in favour of breathing loudly and harshly as she traces the femoral artery at his groin. She decides on silence, showing him mercy in that regard at least.

Missy palms a push dagger next, her thumb holding it flat against her fingers. She allows the cool metal of the short blade to stroke skin before her fingers trace the same path. Coolness then warmth, blade hidden by her hand and she can see the way it makes his pulse jump in his throat. A giggle rises in her own as the Doctor starts to beg again, an incoherent stream of pleas at each caress of her fingers.

The butterfly knives are mostly for show, metal flashing in the air as she demonstrates her skill. She juggles three, blades sparkling high up above where she's sitting on the Doctor's legs until Missy allows them fall with a clatter onto the bed, edges now latched safely inside their handles. He's not allowed to move until she says so, but the smile she receives for her performance is wide and brilliant.

Her throwing daggers get counted out on the Doctor's stomach, laid out slowly and deliberately, his breathing shallow in an attempt to not disturb the neat lines she's making. Once they've been carefully inspected, edges tested against the soft skin of the Doctor's belly, it's the turn of her boot and garter knives.

The thin blades she likes to tuck against her skin get arranged along his limbs as Missy counts them, like the Doctor's skeleton itself is made of steel. He submits to her process beautifully, his pleading reduced to whimpers now. The air grows heavy with a metallic scent as sweat and traces of blood coat her toys. It's annoying to have to wipe them down as she finally puts them away, but the Doctor's blood is sweet on her tongue as she starts to clean him up as well. Kisses get pressed to each little nick and cut before they also get wiped with an antiseptic towlette. There's only eight places where her self control slipped and Missy counts them as proudly as she had her body knives.

He's starting to shiver after Missy's finished cleaning. It's partly the chill of the Vault, partly the rush of adrenaline fading, so she helps the Doctor into the loose pants he likes to fall asleep in and wraps him up in her fluffy robe. Missy arranges the collar for him, fussing a bit, before letting the Doctor handle a few of the knives on his own while she goes to make tea.

He's flipping one of her boot knives like he does with his sonic screwdriver when she brings the mugs over. For a man who claims to abhor weapons, the Doctor handles it well, unflinching even as he tosses it above his head. He swaps it for the tea quickly enough though, laying it down before accepting the offered mug.

They've almost finished their tea when the Doctor nudges one of the blades forward. It's a garter knife, one that she likes to wear hidden on her forearm. The Doctor knows this, he's seen the sheath she prefers to keep it in. But it's short, not long enough to be immediately fatal. He nods at her to take it, also pushing a sheath with three throwing knives toward her when she straps it on under her sleeve. There's a manic grin on the Doctor's face as he watches her lift her skirt to strap them to her thigh and Missy wonders whether this is another test or simply more reward for being good.


End file.
